


Gray Eyes Met Blue.

by OneFail_AtATime



Series: Arya x Gendry Week 2018 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Season/Series 07, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-13
Updated: 2018-08-13
Packaged: 2019-06-26 23:10:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15673182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneFail_AtATime/pseuds/OneFail_AtATime
Summary: Arya x Gendry Week 2018 - Prompt: Eye ContactArya Stark and Gendry Baratheon had a great deal to hide.





	Gray Eyes Met Blue.

Arya Stark and Gendry Baratheon had a great deal to hide.

The destruction and loss that took countless loved ones from them in the Long Night had cast a dark shadow over the North. It was in that dark shadow where the two had found one another, where they had accepted their love for one another that had gone unspoken for so long. They began to pass their time with whispers in the dark and stolen kisses, growing closer with one another and more dependent on the soft sighs and careful touches with each passing day, though both knew their time of peace would come to an end. The Golden Company had landed in Westeros. There was a Mad Queen to defeat.

They kept their emotions quiet. They focused on training. As far as Arya was concerned, they didn’t need Jon or Sansa or anyone else questioning their relationship while they prepared for battle once again. Because of this, they spent their time together in the darkest hours of the night and first hours of dawn. Their secrecy didn’t matter to Gendry. Arya told him time and time again that she _would never_ be ashamed of their relationship. They both knew her temper was short and one wrong word from her family would send her riding off to kill Cersei on her own without any consideration, just to spite them. Gendry much preferred to have her at his side when she slipped into the forge during the day, or after dark when she slipped into his bed. He was hers. And she was his.

Though, it frustrated them both that they had to watch themselves in public.

Because _the one time_ they sparred together had been a form of torture. At one point, Gendry had pinned Arya with her chest against his and the arm of his war hammer pressed against her back. The muscles of his arms practically burned against her and the warmth of his panting breath against her skin brought the familiar tightness to her abdomen. But even then, Arya would not be bested. She slipped from his hold, wrapped her ankle round his, and brought him crashing to the ground. There was a satisfied gleam in her eyes as she straddled his chest to press her dagger’s blade against the skin. “Yield?” She had whispered, her voice low and husky with the desire that she fought to control.

It was that sparring session that sent them running in separate directions, though both found one another in the familiar, secluded area of the godswoods, where they could tear at and devour one another away from prying eyes. It had been difficult to manage themselves soon after. Arya took to wearing high collared jerkins to hide the trail of kissed bruises he left while Gendry took to wearing a neckerchief to hide the nips of bite marks and scratches that his she-wolf would always leave.

And after that incident, even eye contact was dangerous. Gendry saw her training with the Northern lords and foreign commanders, besting each one of them. He saw her messy hair and flushed skin and **_gods be good_** , he had to think of the dozen different ways Jon could kill him in an effort to calm himself.

Arya was the same. All it took was one smirk from him to send a flush against her skin as the heat pulled and twisted in her lower abdomen. She thought of the smirks he would always give as he lovingly kissed his way down her breasts, stomach, and abdomen at an agonizingly slow pace, hovering at the apex of her thighs, _teasing_ her with his breath, and **gods be good**.

Eye contact alone grew more and more frustrating as they rode South. The tents allowed for no privacy whatsoever and the couple was forced to settle for the privacy they could find in the woods and bogs of the Neck, always returning to camp with fresh kill so that nobody would question their time away.

_In the end, Riverrun was their undoing._

Moons of being on the road with the King and Queen had deprived them of the closeness that they had grown accustomed to in the North. They arrived at the castle and found themselves being washed and prepped for the feast that Edmure Tully had thrown in honor of the newlyweds, Queen Daenerys and King Jon. Hours later, Arya finally arrived in the Great Hall, after refusing yet again to wear any borrowed dress, she found herself searching for Gendry amongst the crowd that filled the hall. And she found him, seated next to Davos, laughing at something the fatherly man had said. He was free of the dirt and grime that came from weeks on the road and wisps of still wet, inky black curls fell across his forehead as he ran a hand through his locks. The action brought a warm flush of memories to her, memories of stolen moments in the woods, of _her hands_ running through _his hair_ , of whispered kisses in tents.

Then, as if he could hear her thoughts, Gendry turned to look in her direction.

Laughing ice blue eyes made contact with the flames of her burning steel gaze.

Dinner in the hall was torture.

She didn’t want his hands to hold the horn of ale. She wanted his hands on _her_. His lips shouldn’t be pressed against the rim of the mug. They should be pressed against _her_. And she knew, gods did she know, that he felt the same. Not long after the desserts were served, his eyes met hers and she saw the burning desire in his gaze as she deliberately licked the last of the honey cake from her lips.

_And that was it._

He rose from his seat, muttered something to Ser Davos, and disappeared. Arya ached to go after him and she forced herself to stay and make conversation with her family, all while trying to ignore the heat that was already pooling between her thighs at the thought of what she longed to do to him, of what she longed for _him to do to her_ , until finally, _finally_ , the people in the hall began to retire and she was free to return to her room, to return to _him_.

Gendry was there, kneeling by the hearth as he coaxed the flames to burn brighter. They had been without one another’s touch for so long that the sight of him there, waiting for her, was enough to pull a soft sigh from her lips. She was his. And he was hers.

“M’lady.” He murmured, eyes dark with desire as he turned away from the hearth and stood to his full height.

“Shut up.” Arya murmured as she rushed to close the distance between them, wrapping her arms around his back as her hands came up to cling to the collar of his jerkin, fingertips brushing at his skin. Gendry tucked his chin and captured her lips with his own. Warm and wanting flesh pressed and devoured one another. Her lips suckled against his and a hearty sigh escaped when his arms slipped down, his large hands palming at her waist as he pulled her against him.

The touch of his tongue running against her bottom lip pulled a moan from her and sent her heart beating faster than any Dothraki stallion. Arya purred and pulled him back with her, their legs bumping against the table as it scraped against the floor. Both ignored the crashing of the candlestick as it fell against the stones from the table. They were too focused on one another.

“Arya.” He moaned as her lips broke from his and continued a trail of wet, sucking kisses down his neck.

“Gendry.” She drawled with a purr. Her fingers tugged and pulled at the laces of his jerkin. “It’s been too long, far too long.” Arya pushed the jerkin from his shoulders and quickly did the same with his woolen shirt beneath. Her hands roamed the dip of his chest, tracing the outline of his defined muscles. “I want you.” She breathed as she drew her eyes away from his sculpted chest to meet his on.

“Only you.” He replied, repeating the phrase they had murmured many times over when doubt overtook them. And it was that phrase that struck her, sending an overflowing rush of love to every inch of her body. _She burned with it._

Gendry growled as her teeth nipped at his neck and pulled her with him. Arya pulled at her own jerkin, wanting to rid herself of her layers, wanting to feel his skin against her skin. Once free of the leather jerkin, she stood in her linen shift and breeches. Her hand reached down beneath his breeches and took his hardened length in her grip. A loud moan escaped them both and his mouth came crashing down against hers once more, practically swallowing her whole.

In turn, his hand slipped past her own breeches in order to cup her at the apex of her thighs, just as his mouth settled at the exposed skin of her chest. His free hand reached up to thumb her hardened nipple over the soft linen of her shift, bringing a guttural moan from her lips as he kissed the curves of her breasts.

She recovered quickly, withdrawing her own hand in order to shove him backward towards the bed. He laughed and pulled her back to him. His hands slipped down from her waist and lifted her. Arya’s legs wrapped around him instinctively, familiar with this dance. Gendry’s lips kissed and sucked at the soft flesh of her neck, causing her to throw her head back in return as she let out a breathless laugh. The back of her head met with something on the edge of the hearth and it too went crashing to the floor.

“Bed.” She gasped as his hands, strong and calloused from years of working in the forge, squeezed her arse, pulling yet another moan from her. He pushed away from the table with such force that it clattered to the floor with a crack that resonated through the chamber. Gendry stumbled forwards. The two had lost themselves in one another and gave no care to the disorder that they caused the room. Chairs and candlesticks and tables remained upturned on the floor. They gave no notice to the noise their destruction had caused. His eyes locked with her own, gaze never leaving her face as he carried her. It was the familiar look in his blue eyes that she would remember forever. “I love you too.” Arya breathed, his declaration unspoken. The look in his eyes was enough.

And so he lowered her onto the bed, eyes narrowed but never breaking contact with her own as warm hands roamed the curves of her body in his familiar, yet agonizingly slow pace, as if he were attempting to commit the feel of her to memory. Laughing with a happy impatience, Arya pulled him close in order to flip them so that her thighs were straddling his waist, squeezing tightly against him as the ache in her lower abdomen began to spread. She leaned into him, caught his bottom lip between her teeth, and coaxed yet another moan from him.

“Aryaaa.” Her name dragged from the back of his throat with the moan, bringing a smirk to her own lips as her fingers trailed over his bare skin, clenching his muscular arms, and curling against the dip of his abdomen. All she needed was him. All he needed was her. At that moment, they were in a world of their own making.

Until a loud crash brought the couple falling back to reality.

“Arya!” A voice called in what could only be a severe shock.

She turned to see Jon standing beneath the door frame, having clearly forced the door open. Both could see a broken hinge against the wood of the door. And behind Jon stood a wide-eyed Sansa with her hand on the King’s shoulder, having clearly attempted to stop him. In turn, Arya felt Gendry pull back from her, though not entirely. He was close enough that she could still feel the warmth of his palm against the small of her back. Though she could feel the anxiousness rolling off him in waves, he wouldn’t break their connection.

_Four pairs of eyes all made eye contact with one another in painfully awkward silence._

First, Arya turned to look at Gendry, who avoided Jon’s glare by meeting Sansa’s demanding gaze instead. He broke and turned back to face the woman who had been wrapped up in his arms just moments prior. Arya felt her body flush once more as his ice blue gaze bore into that of her own steel stare. She could have sworn that she saw the faintest smirk dance across his lips, lighting a spark in his eyes.

Next, Arya turned to see Sansa staring at the two of them. A knowing smile filled her features as if long-held suspicions had been confirmed. Which, Arya supposed, they probably had been. Her sister’s brow raised as her smile grew and Arya made no attempt to cover her half-dressed state, nor to hide the blossom of yellowing bruises that colored her neck from their last escape into the woods. Though she would be annoyed by society’s interest in her personal affairs, she would never be ashamed of what his love brought to her.

It was Jon who she last made eye contact with. Jon, her brother, who had never once tried to talk her out of being who she was. He was the brother who saw her for the accomplished swordsperson she was. Together they had killed the Night King and helped to rebuild Winterfell. She had fought side by side with Jon and Gendry and knew at that moment that she would never be parted from either. Jon was glaring, and when their gray eyes met, the shock filling his features only grew.

And so Jon was the first to speak as if meeting Arya’s gaze had pulled him back to reality. “Y-you! Arya! You’re my sister and you-!” The King turned abruptly to stare at his best friend. “You! With my sister?” It wasn’t a statement. It was an accusation and Arya wouldn’t allow it.

“Don’t you dare say anything against this, Jon Snow. You and the Dragon Queen didn’t exactly keep your relationship a secret. I believe the entire camp can recall hearing the two of you during our weeks before the battle. You weren’t very quiet.”

Sansa laughed at her sister’s outburst. “You could have told us, Arya.” The youngest Stark threw her head back with a bright laugh.

“And what about you with the secret kisses and whispers that you’ve been sharing with the likes of Tyrion Lannister, hmm?” Arya’s accusation clearly startled her brother, though he would not be swayed. He would have no distractions.

“But you- the two of you- I mean … _I TEASED HIM ABOUT THE SCRATCH MARKS, ARYA. **YOUR** SCRATCH MARKS._ ”

“As you should,” Arya replied lightly. “It means he’s doing his job well.”

She took _pride_ in the way that both Jon and Gendry’s face reddened visibly.

“So it _was_ you.” Jon accused, recalling the laughs and teases that he and Tormund had put the smith through when he had appeared a few weeks after the battle with deep red scratches curled down the back of his neck. “Has it been going on for so long?”

“I love Arya,” Gendry answered honestly, his hand still pressed to the small of her back. “We didn’t mean to offend any of you.”

Sansa’s hand came up to lay against her brother’s shoulder. “Of course you didn’t.” She answered warmly before leaning in against the king. “Jon, we should go.”

“Yes, you should,” Arya said pointedly. “Although, why your thick head would decide to bust down a locked door is beyond me.”

Jon’s face reddened once more. “I-I there was- you see-“

Arya took in the sight of the room for the first time. She saw the upturned table, the candlesticks, and mantle objects that had clattered to the floor in their trail from the hearth to the bed. Her eyes met Gendry’s and she felt the laugh that they were both attempting to surprise. “I suppose we _were_ making a bit of noise.”

Her brother looked like a kettle ready to blow. He began to sputter and protest, only for Sansa to guide him back into the hall with one hand on his shoulder. Her dark Tully blue gaze met Arya’s eyes with a soft smile and nod before she pulled the door shut, leaving the couple to their silence.

Their gazes met. Both smiles widened and before either knew it, both were laughing. It was an uncontrollable laughter that burned deep within them, one that brought a lightness to both their souls. Gendry fell back onto the featherbed, visibly shaking with the laughter that consumed them. Arya fell against him, curling her body against his as she leaned in on her elbows in order to meet his gaze once more. “I suppose it was bound to happen sooner or later.” He murmured, his hand reaching up to brush back her hair that had come undone and now hung in curling waves to frame her face. His hand cupped her cheek after tucking the locks behind her ear.

Arya leaned in to press her lips against his own. “I guess it also means you can kiss me in public now.”

Their eyes made contact once more. Gray eyes met blue. Smiles grew.

Arya Stark and Gendry Baratheon did not have much to hide anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> This is the very first prompt that I've chosen to write for and the first that I've ever posted. Because of that, I welcome all sorts of feedback. The return of Gendry to the show has renewed my love for Gendrya and I hope to repost all the prompts from AxG Week that I've shared on Tumblr. While a canon Gendrya is still up in the air for S8, I love the idea of Jon being completely out of the loop when a relationship between the two could form right under his nose. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!


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